


a weekend away

by cdocks



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: 5 Times, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:21:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdocks/pseuds/cdocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aka "5 times the Youkai knew too much about Natsume and Natori's love life and 1 time it didn't matter".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of vaguely future-y, so Natsume is at the end of his senior year here, aka not underage. Also there is not nearly enough Natori/Natsume fic in this fandom, just saying~

It was supposed to be a pleasant getaway, on that last nice long weekend before finals. Natori had effortlessly shot down each and every one of Natsume’s attempts at practicality (“I need to study.” “Bring your books.” “I won’t get any studying done with you there.” “That’s the point.” “Touko will worry.” “No she won’t; she loves me even more than you do.” “I don’t love you.” “Yes, you do.”) and they were sitting side-by-side on the next train into the city. 

Well. Sort of. There was one small thing between them –

“I won’t sleep on the couch! Not happening, no way, no how! I like where I sleep; if you move me I’ll sleep badly and lose my good nature!”

Not for the first time, Natsume was relieved that Nyanko-sensei’s constant complaints sounded like normal meowing to most people. It wasn’t much of an improvement (there were still the disapproving looks from the other passengers), but he’d take what he could get. His muttered attempts to silence the cat were interrupted as Natori ducked down, leaning in close to Sensei’s head where it poked out of Natsume’s bag.

“Listen, kitty-cat,” he began in a reasonable, soothing voice, one that brought an instinctive flush to Natsume’s cheeks. “You can’t sleep where you usually do.”

Nyanko-sensei turned, narrowing his eyes at Natori, ears laid back. “Why not, beansprout?” he growled, starting to fluff up like a cotton ball.

“Because that is my spot, this weekend, and I don’t intend on sharing bed space for even one moment.” This wouldn’t have been nearly as bad had Natori not thrown his best “I’m-a-famous-actor-and-therefore-irresistible” face towards Natsume and squeezed his leg in a not-strictly-platonic way.

Needless to say, Natori was banished to a seat on the other side of the train, while Natsume spent the remainder of the trip red as a tomato and apparently deaf to Nyanko-sensei’s demands for an explanation.


	2. Chapter 2

What with one thing and another (late trains, a sudden rainstorm, being mobbed by paparazzi and having to lie and say Natsume was Natori’s newest assistant) it was well past midnight by the time the pair reached the high-rise apartment in the heart of town. Soaking wet and panting from outrunning photographers, Natsume barely managed to slip off his shoes before collapsing in a heap on the couch.

“I’m sorry for dripping everywhere,” he mumbled into a pillow, stretching his sore, cramped muscles out with a groan. 

Much to his surprise, rather than make a snide comment, Natori knelt beside the couch, settling his hand right over the most tense part of Natsume’s back and starting to rub gentle circles. “Quite the auspicious start to our weekend,” he remarked with that smile that never failed to send Natsume’s heart skipping and his stomach swooping with something dizzying and delightful. “I can make tea, if you’d like it?”

Natsume hesitated a moment, face warm, then rolled onto his side and settled his hand over Natori’s. “Actually,” he began, licking his lips, face getting even redder when he noticed how the other man’s eyes followed his tongue. “I want to go to bed.”

Exhaustion and annoyance forgotten (and with Sensei peacefully dozing on the abandoned couch), there was soon a trail of sodden clothes on the floor leading to the bedroom and a hasty, clumsy, laughing attempt to get socks and undershirts and ties off all at the same time while simultaneously not keeping hands or lips off each other for more than an instant. Natori was mumbling something into Natsume’s neck about how he tasted, probably something poetic, something a leading man would say, but Natsume couldn’t pay attention because those lips, these hands, the way Natori pressed him up against the closed door and tangled their cold fingers together was scarier than any spirit and more powerful than any curse.

Even when they stumbled over the futon, tumbled onto the unmade covers and Natori got a mouthful of hair all of a sudden, they laughed, because they were alone and free and they had all night for just them, for the slide of skin on skin and the sheets silky-smooth where they’re tangled around Natsume’s bare legs and a million tiny kisses peppered over his shoulders and neck and the mushy shape of a pig-faced Youkai staring at them from the corner and –-

\-- and hopefully Natori’s apartment is sound-proofed, because Natsume let out a bloodcurdling scream and flung himself into the opposite corner with impressive force, getting as far away from the big-eyed spirit as he possibly could. To his credit, Natori handled the sudden transformation of his affectionate, mostly-naked boyfriend to a furiously blushing, indignant lump under the covers with astounding grace.

“Yes, what do you need?” he asked the Youkai, smoothing his hair and casually pulling a pillow onto his lap. 

The Youkai bowed low, seemingly unperturbed. “I had heard Mr. Natsume was coming into town, and I was hoping to have my name returned. I hope I’m not intruding.” 

From under the blankets in the corner, Natsume let out an indignant, muffled squeak that seemed to suggest intrusion was exactly what the spirit was doing.

“I’m afraid Mr. Natsume is very busy. Come back later. Much later. Next week would be ideal.” Natori narrowed his eyes, fingers curling into a fist. The Yokai scowled, but there was an air about the shirtless exorcist that harbored no arguments whatsoever, so it rose, bowed at the lump of fabric and then floated out the window and into the night.

With a sigh, Natori flopped onto his back, groaning slightly in frustration. “Could this day get any worse?” he asked rhetorically, reaching out to tug the still-blanket-covered Natsume closer. 

Wrapped up like a caterpillar, Natsume settled with his cheek over Natori’s bare chest, soothed by the steady sound of his boyfriend’s heartbeat, a wonderfully human sound, unchanging despite all the madness that made up their lives. “I could’ve helped him,” he remarked, sounding doubtful now. “I always get tired after returning a name. It might’ve helped me sleep.”

“No, no, no,” Natori protested, wiggling his fingers inside Natsume’s blanket-cocoon and sliding them through the still-damp strands of soft light hair. “I was going to do a perfectly fine job of tiring you out, all by myself. No supernatural aid required.” Then, after a pause, hopefully – “I…still could, you know…”

Natsume laughed wearily, turning and shaking his head sadly. “It’s gone.”

“Oh. All right.” Natori was doing his very best job as a decorated actor not to pout.

“…is your--”

“Give it a moment.” 

“Oh.”

A pause, as Natsume wiggled around enough to give Natori some blanket and the two settled down to sleep. A slow, thoughtful comment roused the younger man from his contented (if somewhat disappointed) doze: “There’s always tomorrow, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Natsume replied, smiling a little at the poorly-disguised hope in Natori’s voice.

“Tomorrow morning, even.”

“Oh, certainly.”

“…what time do you usually wake up?”

“Good-night, Natori.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sunshine that awoke Natori the next morning was the pale, buttery sort that only comes after a long rain. He blinked a couple times as the rays shone right into his eyes, through the still-ajar window that the Youkai had left through, then reached out instinctively to fumble for his glasses. Instead he ended up patting the top of Natsume’s head, which was all that was visible under the blankets. Mysteriously he’d regained the small bit he’d given Natori the previous night.

But it wasn’t too chilly that morning, and the light patting prompted Natsume to sigh and roll over so Natori could see his peaceful sleeping face. Sliding the glasses up his nose, the older man took the rare quiet moment to unabashedly gaze at Natsume, at the soft way his eyelashes rested on his cheeks, at the way his uncombed hair fell over his forehead, at the way he looked completely unconcerned, lost in some happy dreamland. 

There was something bittersweet about that, about how it was only when Natsume was sleeping peacefully that he didn’t look worried about something. Natori had tried for so long to convince them both that by staying out of the affairs of Ayakashi, some of that trouble could be avoided. Yet now he couldn’t deny that staying away from spirits would also mean staying away from Natori himself. Perhaps a year ago he could’ve handled Natsume walking out of his life, but now? Never.

Sighing softly, because he really was a fool, a helpless, hopeless fool in love, which was the worst kind, Natori leaned in to brush his lips against Natsume’s forehead, gently, thankful and regretful all at once. Another kiss to his cheek, his nose, and the young man was rousing, furrowing his eyebrows and squinting one eye open. 

“…hello,” Natsume said softly, shy all of a sudden, sleepy and vulnerable. If possible he was even more endearing like this, with his guard down, his cheeks pink from sleep. 

Natori smiled, leaning in and kissing those slightly parted lips, a finger resting under Natsume’s chin and tipping his face up, breathing in the sweet warm early-morning scent of him. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he replied, laughing when Natsume wrinkled his nose.

“Must you say things like that?” the younger man muttered in annoyance – but not too much annoyance to keep him from reaching for Natori again, for another kiss. They were slower this time, lazy with sleep and sunshine, nestling together under the blankets and taking their time waking each other up. 

But that soft breathy gasp when Natori kissed at the curve of neck and shoulder was too much to resist, so he kicked the blanket aside, rolling them so Natsume was on his back, breath quickening when Natori moved to kneel over him. Another kiss, harder, a taste of teeth against skin and that gasp was a moan and they were both definitely awake now and Natsume was pulling Natori down, wanting him closer in the bright morning sunshine and the feel of his skin and the sound of Hiiragi clearing her throat from where she’d materialized next to the bed and –

“Come on, she’s a spirit! It doesn’t matter to her!”

“It matters to me!”

Natori sighed heavily, leaning against the closed bathroom door and trying to resist the urge to seal each and every Youkai in the country away, just so he could enjoy one teensy-tiny weekend. “I should’ve warned her that we’d be busy. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Natsume’s voice was horrified as he opened the door all of a sudden. “Explaining that sort of…thing to people is even worse.”

Natori glanced down, taking in Natsume’s sweatpants and thick sweater with a frown. “You’re dressed.”

That got a scowl as Natsume crossed his arms, blushing a little under the older man’s wistful look. “It’s morning. That’s when people get dressed, Natori.” Then, refusing to be swayed by any pouts, he brushed past his boyfriend on the way to the kitchen. “And it’s what you’ll do, if you want any breakfast.”

“Oh? You’re making breakfast?” Still shirtless, Natori followed Natsume down the hall, peeking hopefully into the kitchen. “What are we having? Let me see.”

“You’ll have nothing if you don’t put some clothes on.” With that, Natsume shut the door in Natori’s face, starting to poke around in the fridge and stifling a smile at the woeful sigh that accompanied the retreating footsteps back to the bedroom.


End file.
